


baby, you're just harder to see than most

by wilsonrogers (hanbrough)



Series: post-endgame samsteve fics [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Coffee Shops, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Multi, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:41:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanbrough/pseuds/wilsonrogers
Summary: Months after The Blip, Sam runs into an unexpected figure.
Relationships: (background), Kate Bishop/America Chavez, Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: post-endgame samsteve fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574593
Kudos: 22





	baby, you're just harder to see than most

**Author's Note:**

> another endgame!samsteve fix-it fic because it's been half a year and i still hate what the russos did with my ship. got out all my frustrations with steve through sam's dialogue :^)
> 
> the premise was inspired by a girl in my creative writing class whose angsty coffee-shop story hurt my heart. the title is from "dancing with your ghost" by sasha sloan because it reminds me of them. hope you enjoy!

**January 2018**

_ “We should go to Bali.” _

_ Sam sits up, scooting closer to his side of the bed. He blinks. _

_ “I’m sorry?” _

_ “Bali,” Steve repeats, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Or Aruba. Anywhere that isn’t cold will do.” _

_ “Steve,” Sam says slowly, like he’s speaking to a child. “Have you forgotten that we’re international fugitives?”  _

_ “Well, they haven’t found us yet,” Steve replies, with a wry smile. “We might as well enjoy the sun while we’re at it.” _

_ “Steve,” Sam tries again. “I haven’t seen my family in two years.” _

_ At this reminder, Steve’s face falls, and Sam almost feels a little bit guilty for causing it. _

_ “Alright,” he acquiesces. “Not now. But when this is all over, Bali’s the first place we’ll go.” _

_ Sam knows he’d follow Steve to the ends of the world if he wanted to. It’s a done deal. _

_ “Okay,” Sam says, taking Steve’s hand. “Okay.” _

—

**December 2023**

“Got any plans for the holidays, boss?”

Sam looks up from the post-mission report to see Kate leaning by the door, arms crossed. With a practiced flourish, it’s sent off for Fury’s approval. 

“Might visit some family down in Harlem, otherwise staying here in the city,” he answers, tapping on the screen. “You?”

“America and I are going to Europe,” Kate says. Sam watches her subconsciously light up as she talks about her girlfriend; he has no regrets about introducing the two of them to each other. 

“Sounds fun,” he says, after Kate’s finished listing off her long and extensive itinerary. “I’m happy for you two.”

“Thanks,” Kate says. Then, she raises an eyebrow in question. “You sure you’ll be fine here, though?”

“Of course,” Sam waves her off. “You go and enjoy your well-earned vacation.”

Kate only hesitates for a split second before nodding and turning to leave. “Okay. Happy holidays, Sam.”

Alone once more, Sam sighs. Setting down the tablet, he stands up, letting his joints crack in relief from the extended period of inactivity. He’s never liked doing mission reports, but as captain, they’re a necessary evil. Now that the last one for the year is finished, he’s ready to go home. 

With headquarters devoid of Avengers, Sam makes sure to lock it down before he leaves. Shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets, he steps outside and joins the crowd of New Yorkers, anxious to get away from the cold. Normally, he’d stop and appreciate the way the fog from his exhales curl in the air, but today just isn’t that day. 

As Sam makes his way to his favorite coffee shop, the one right across from his apartment, he hears familiar voices boom across the city. Groaning, he glances up to be met with the latest Avengers press conference, broadcast for everyone to see, and wraps his scarf around his face even tighter.

“....Captain Wilson’s approval ratings have never been higher, and it’s clear that he’s an excellent leader,” a reporter quips. “However, is that enough to be truly deserving of the Captain America mantle?” 

Sam rolls his eyes, all too used to it - the thinly veiled racist jabs that have still persisted even after all these months. Even after Steve, as his old man self, made his last public appearance to announce the passing of the title to the world. 

Steve. Sam doesn’t want to think about Steve. He doesn’t want to think about the way he’d promised to visit at the retirement home, but never did. He doesn’t want to think about how Bucky had told him Steve'd asked for him at his deathbed. He doesn’t want to think about the way they ended, of empty dreams and almosts. 

When Sam finally arrives, the singsong jingle of the door and the heavenly smell of hot chocolate are so familiar that he almost forgets his troubles. The line isn’t too long at this hour, and he chats with the barista as he orders. Then, he moves off to the side to wait for his name to be called.

That’s when Sam sees him. 

Sam’s only got a view of the man’s back. But the broad shoulders that curve into a small backside look so familiar that he can only stare. 

It can’t be. It has to be an illusion. Sam spent months trying to forget the way he traced circles into those muscular shoulders, thinking that they were his future. 

The man turns around, and Sam finds himself face to face with none other than Steve Rogers. 

“Sam,” he says. “Hi.”

“This isn’t real,” Sam murmurs, stepping back. “This can’t be real.”

“Sam,” the man repeats. The way he says it is so gentle, so tender, that even though Sam knows logically, his Steve is dead, Steve - or some version of him - is also right here, standing in front of him. 

“Sam,” Steve says one more time, as if nothing is wrong. He tentatively steps forward. “How are you?”

The normalcy of the question, as if they’re simply two friends catching up, is the last straw.

“How am I?” Sam repeats incredulously. “You left me to live out your fantasy life. You abandoned your family. I spent months coming to terms with it, and I-”

He’s rudely interrupted by Steve’s hands holding his, and Steve’s lips on his. For the briefest of moments, Sam returns the kiss, only because it feels so right. At home. It’s as if nothing has changed.

But then the reality of the situation hits, and it’s as if someone has plunged ice into Sam’s stomach. He pulls away, stepping out of Steve’s embrace.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks. “You chose Peggy, you-”

“Sam, listen to me.”

Sam’s backing away; he can’t do this. “I have to go. I-”

“I made a mistake.”

Sam stills. “What?”

“I chose the wrong happy ending.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam looks at Steve’s hand. It’s oddly bare. 

“I thought I would be happy going back,” Steve explains. “I thought I made the right choice. But I didn’t.”

“So….you just came back?” Sam asks, eyebrow raised. “What did Peggy think?”

Steve at least has the decency to look rueful. “She wasn’t thrilled when I explained it to her, but she understood why I had to leave.”

“And now that you’re here, you think everything can go back to normal?” Sam questions. “That I’d just take you back, no questions asked?”

“No, I-” Steve stops himself. “Well, I don’t know what I thought would happen. But what I do know is that I never stopped loving you.”

All of a sudden, Sam is tired. “Steve,” he says, hating the way Steve’s eyes look hopeful, and hating himself even more for having to let him down. “Sometimes, love isn’t enough.”

“Sam,” Steve’s pleading, reaching out for him. “I’m sorry.”

Sam sighs. “Sorry can’t change what happened. You left me. Left Bucky. You left all of us. You went five years without us and the second we came back, you decided we weren’t enough.”

“That isn’t true at all,” Steve insists. “It’s just - “ He pauses. “Well, I saw all these things that I couldn’t fix. I thought going back in time was the one thing I could.”

“Steve,” Sam’s voice cracks. “I still love you. But I can’t trust you. Not anymore.”

“I understand,” Steve says. “But, Sam, I swear - I’ll never stop trying to make this right.”

“I don’t know if you can,” Sam whispers hoarsely. The tension in the air is thick, and all he wants is for his goddamn coffee to be finished so he can go home.

“What if - ” Steve hesitates. “What if we started over?”

Sam so desperately wants to say yes, anything that would allow Steve back in his arms. His brain knows better, and he knows he should end it all.

But maybe, just this once, he can follow his heart. He’s earned that, right?

“Okay,” Sam says, and if he didn’t know Steve so well, he wouldn’t have seen Steve’s shoulders sag the tiniest bit in relief. “Okay.”

“Black coffee for Steven Grant!” The barista’s sharp voice reminds them that they’re not alone. “Black coffee for Steven Grant.”

“That’s me,” Steve nods politely, stepping up to the counter. “Thank you.”

The barista quickly smiles at him before turning to her other orders, too backed up to realize just who exactly she had been talking to.

As Steve heads for the exit, he not so subtly brushes against Sam. Looking directly at him, Steve stops, and smiles.

“Hi,” Steve says, extending his hand. “I haven’t seen you here before. I’m Steve. It’s nice to see - uh, meet you.”

Sam shakes. “Sam.”

“I’ll see you around, Sam.” Steve shoots him the briefest of smiles, and then he’s gone.

For the first time in months, Sam thinks he’ll be okay.


End file.
